Leonora’s big day


    So, it has finally arrived.


    My big grand bon voyage from this world to the next has finally arrived and I couldn’t be more vexed at the world than I already am. My mother never left the room, silently weeping at my side, her hand never leaving mine. My sister redid my lipstick and brushed my hair out of all tangles and frizz. I watched the single tear roll down her cheek, leaving a trail in its wake. She quickly wiped it away before my mother could see it. It was always like that of Cordelia to never be show any signs of weakness in front of anyone. I watched her, wishing that I could be with her one last time alive.


    My guardian, my one true friend. An angel...


    As she slid some bejeweled rings onto my fingers my father entered the room. It is the first time he has been in the same room as me since my passing. The door silently swung open as he stood in the doorway, pale as I. My father, a man whom I had always looked up to as a child and a growing adult suddenly seemed so frail and feeble. His hair in dark grey wisps under the top hat that we always tease him about that he insisted on wearing everywhere and the long black silver handled cane supporting from a limp he got from a carriage crash in his early twenties. His mouth hung loose as he stared in vacantly at me, all color drained from his face, he didn’t take one step closer, his eyes glistening wet, a thin build up of tears ready to cascade over his eyelids. I have never seen my father like this, a man who always had so much vigor now he looked like he was made of dust, ready to collapse and be blown away from the lightest touch.


    Cordelia stopped what she was doing, stiller than a statue, one eye stealthily watching him. She sported some color, I request I made to her a few days before my passing. The same red lipstick, a pink rose pinned in her hair and the moonstone earrings I got her for Christmas one year. My father and mother however did not fulfill the promise. Stoic figures drabbed in black, the only vivid color on them were the red blood vessels in their eyes. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “Are you coming in to say goodbye?” Cordelia asked, sliding on one more ring onto my finger. My father’s eyes never left me to answer her and i questioned in my head if he even heard her.


    “Isn’t that what the funerals for?” He said, his voice wobbling under pressure to keep back the tears.


    “You can give her a kiss, hold her hand or talk to her one last final time. You won’t be able to do that at the funeral” Cordelia rook my hands and carefully cross them over my chest. Her gentle hand went to my cheek and cradled it. She smiled softly down at me, her face full of love and doting affection.


    But my father''s eyes never left my face. His eyes wide with horror and disbelief that his oldest daughter was handling my passing much stronger than he was. Or was it that his youngest daughter was lying dead before him. A child he had watch grow up from a babe into a young woman now lying dead in her bed, waiting for the undertakers to place her in her coffin and be escorted to the church.


    Nineteen years old and dead before her parents.


    He shouldn’t have to do this


    He shouldn’t have to bury his own child.


    No one should.


    Finally, his eyes left me and glanced coldly up to Cordelia.


    “I just came up to say the undertakers have arrived. That’s all” And he left the room.


    I wanted to pine after him. I wanted to get up and run after him and let him hold me again one last time like I was a little child again. I wanted to tell him I loved him dearly, but I couldn’t and even though I was dead I could feel whatever it was in my chest ache and break for him and us. I wish death never visited this house and when I finally get to meet him he is going to get one hell of an earful from me. But I couldn''t even flinch if I wanted to. I was immobile from death and my Mother never even looked up to my father when he was in the room. There beside me she remained kneeled like in prayer, still clasping my hand. Never letting go and me wishing she never will.